The week of last times.

When you move to a place, everything is so beautiful: discovering nice places, meeting new people, sharing experiences. Then, after few weeks you start to see just the bad part of everything. And, at the end, when you are just about to leave, you think that “come on, it was not that bad”. Actually, my first phase in Xiamen was “oh my God someone helps me to find a way out of here”, but now I’m really in the third phase: everything looks kinda nicer and prettier, also because it’s summer time. So, this is the week of last times. Last trip on the island, last time to Xindian, last dinner, last shower, last occasion to say goodbye to all the people out there. Now, I’m not saying that I would love to stay here longer, not at all. Just wondering why everything at the end it’s fucking beautiful.